Love on the Front Line
by HardyBoyz4Eva
Summary: Chris/Adam. Phil/Adam. John/Randy. Trish/Amy. True love doesn't exist, Adam learned that the hard way. Just when your heart thinks that it is filled with so much love, nothing could ever compare, life can always take away that high. After the death of his lover, Adam fell into a depression that threatened his career as a doctor. Could Chris, a war veteran with PTSD, save him?
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M (Mature)  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, etc.

* * *

"Dr. Copeland, you have a new patient. He was just flown over from the trauma center at a local hospital. He had a torn bowel and several pieces of shrapnel in his spinal tissue." Trish explained.

"Can I have his file?" Adam extended his hand and took the file from the P.A. "This says that he has refused to take his pain medication and antibiotics. It also says that he has refused to eat for three days."

"Because of the tear in his bowel, he had to be on an all-liquid diet. His anti-depressant and anti-psychotic medication didn't come in liquid form, so they couldn't be administered to him." Trish said.

Adam shook his head. "He probably thinks that we're trying to kill him. What room is he in?"

Trish hesitated for a moment, before she answered weakly, "Room 218, down the hall and to the left."

Adam tucked the file under his arm and made his way down the hall in the direction of the patient's room. This wasn't the first case he had had of a soldier who had been injured in the line of duty. In fact, the case was almost textbook. The patient most likely had severe PTSD and was afraid that the doctors and nurses wanted to hurt him, when in fact their only intent was to make him better. Adam knocked on the door once and let himself inside.

Immediately, he was hit with a blast of cold air. The first bed was vacant – the patient that used to reside there had been sent home earlier. The curtain was drawn around the second bed, but Adam could hear the low rumble of the television. Slowly, he drew the curtain back and came face-to-face with his new patient. He had the call button in hand and was irritably hitting the button. When nobody answered, he threw it down with a huff.

"Mr. Irvine, is it? I'm Dr. Copeland, the new doctor that has been assigned to your case." Adam introduced himself kindly. "Would you like to tell me why you haven't been taking your medication?"

"I don't need the damn medication. I'm fine. Or, at least, I _was_ fine until the damn doctor took two vertebrae out of my spine and told me that I would be medically discharged from the marines." Chris grumbled.

"Mr. Irvine, I can clearly see that you are in incredible pain. Your blood pressure is through the roof." Adam said.

Chris didn't take the bait. "I'm fine. I don't know what I'm saying that's so damn difficult to understand. Is it the 'I'm'? Do you not understand that that is a contraction? I am. Is that better? I _am_ fine."

"I understand what you're saying, Mr. Irvine. But now, I need _you_ to understand what _I'm_ saying." Adam wasn't in the mood to deal with a childish patient that wouldn't take his medication. "You need these to get better."

"What reason do I have to trust you?" Chris shot back, clearly not impressed by Adam's determination.

"You can trust me because I have your best interest at heart." Adam said honestly.

"Yeah. That's what they always say." Chris rolled his eyes and turned away from Adam, clearly distressed. "And then they take your livelihood away from you and expect you to walk away like nothing happened."

Adam flinched. It was obvious that he had hit a nerve of some kind. "I'm sorry if I insulted you, Mr. Irvine…"

"Just shut up and hand me the damn pills." Chris ordered bluntly.

Adam wasn't about to pitch a fit. This was what he had wanted, after all. He had wanted Chris to take his medication and to become healthy, just like the hundreds of other patients that Adam had serviced over the years. Chris tilted his head back and swallowed his pills dry. He tossed the little cup at the trash can and missed, but Adam wasn't about to comment on that. His mission had been successful.

"Now, what was it that was so important that you were ready to murder your call button over?" Adam asked, a sweet smile on his face. Chris looked at him, before he turned away hurriedly. A small blush tainted his alabaster cheeks.

"Nothing." Chris sighed petulantly. "Don't worry about it."

* * *

_Christopher 'Jericho' Irvine, forty-one years old. He served in the U.S. Marine Corps for twenty years and was well known for both his dedication to his country and his love and compassion for his family. In December 1996, Irvine was shot in the knee and had to have emergency surgery to repair the joint. A knee replacement operation soon followed. In 2012, Irvine was shot down in the front line after his base was bombed in a raid. All together, the surgeon who operated on Irvine collected seventy-three pieces of shrapnel from Irvine's back and had to remove two vertebrae from Irvine's back that were heavily damaged and open to infection. _

_Irvine also suffered from a torn bowel, which was able to be repaired without the need for a colostomy bag. Also, when Irvine awoke from his operation, he received and Psych. Eval. to determine his mental state. Irvine confessed to frequent hallucinations and extreme paranoia, which are both symptoms of PTSD. Diagnosed with PTSD, Irvine was then issued a prescription for Haldol, an anti-psychotic, and Cymbalta, an anti-depressant. He is to receive biweekly evaluations of his mental state to ensure that the medication is working to its fullest ability, and if this should not be the case, receive a new prescription for a different medication._

* * *

Adam opened the door to his apartment and stumbled inside, totally exhausted. All he wanted to do was walk into his bedroom and crash on the bed, but he hadn't had dinner and he knew that he would regret it if he didn't eat before he went to bed. So he walked into the kitchen, kicking off his shoes on the way, and took a box of cereal off of the freezer. However, that's when a little note caught his eye.

**Adam,**

**Sorry, I got called into work late. One of the rookies made a stupid mistake, but if it isn't corrected, it could cause some serious problems. I probably won't be back until really early in the morning. But I did make dinner for you. It was chicken and cheese manicotti. I know that you really like it when I make that, so it's my apology for having to stay out late. The leftovers are in the fridge.**

**Jay**

Adam rolled his eyes. It seemed like every other day that someone in Jay's company messed up on what should be routine assignments and turned the entire company on its ear. At thirty-seven, Jay was easily the youngest CEO in the tri-state area. However, accomplishments like that came at a high price. He wasn't home much and when he was, he was totally exhausted. Not that Adam was any better off.

Slowly, Adam took out some food and served it, before he slid it into the microwave and hit the button for 'warm-up'. Once it was done, he carried it over to the island counter and sat down, picking at his food lazily. He wasn't really in the mood to eat. He just couldn't get that one patient out of his mind. Adam must've read his file a hundred times. To have a career like that suddenly end was a terrible waste.

"What are you doing, Adam?" Adam mumbled to himself as he cut off a piece of manicotti. "You promised yourself to never become emotionally attached to anyone. It never turns out well. You know that."

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about that. However, he couldn't stop the tears that bubbled to his eyes at the memory of the man that had died way before his time. And it was Adam's fault. If only he had stuck to his rule and not become emotionally attached, then he wouldn't have been compromised and he wouldn't have risked his life. It was his death that made Adam question every day whether he wanted to continue to be a doctor…

"But he wouldn't want you to think like that. He wouldn't want you to abandon your dream just because he didn't have a chance to achieve his. He wouldn't want you to still dwell on him every minute of every day." Adam mumbled.

Adam looked down at the table. Somehow, in that short amount of time, Adam had managed to devour his entire meal. He slid off of the stool and put the plate into the sink and ran some water on it. And then he turned on his heel and walked into his bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him. Maybe, that way, he could lock the memories on the outside. Maybe, that way, he wouldn't have to dwell on his former-boyfriend's death.


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, etc.

* * *

_"What's the matter, nurse?" Adam looked at the smaller red-head, concern apparent in his vibrant hazel eyes. "You look a little stressed out." And then, a small smile formed. Her heart melted like butter._

_A soft, crimson flush came over her cheeks. And then, it darkened until it was almost the same color as her hair. "Oh, well, it's just the new patient. He's incredibly rude. And he refuses to take his medication!"_

_"May I see his chart?" Adam asked. She nodded and handed it over, watching with half-lidded eyes as he examined it carefully. "It looks like he had a knee replacement and ended up with MRSA. Do they know how?"_

_The nurse nodded. She brushed her red locks behind her ear casually. "One of the doctors didn't wash her hands. It transferred from patient to patient. He sued and robbed them blind. They're out of business now."_

_"What room is he in?" Adam asked._

_"Room 218, down the hall and to the left."_

_Those directions sounded uncomfortably familiar. Adam tucked the file under his arm and walked down the hall in the direction of the patient's room. When he arrived, he walked into the room and came face-to-face with his patient. The man sat up in bed, his arms tucked firmly around his middle. His olivine eyes were downcast on the bed, focused on his heavily bandaged leg. Adam inspected it carefully. It was a little swollen and the area above his knee was red._

_Slowly, Adam made his way over to the bed. When the door clicked closed behind him, the man looked up from his leg and stared at Adam. Adam noticed that he looked feverish and had a thin sheen of sweat on his pale skin. He set the chart down on the windowsill and took care to wash his hands thoroughly, before he slipped on a pair of latex-free gloves. They didn't know if he was allergic or not, but it was better not to take the risk._

_MRSA was a highly contagious staph infection that's become resistant to most strains of antibiotics commonly used to treat staph infections. It mutated every forty-eight hours as well. It had to be handled extremely carefully. Adam had had experience with it before, but he had never encountered a case quite like this. The man had been perfectly healthy, had obtained a major sports injury, and now was affected by an infectious disease._

_"Hello, Mr. Brooks. I'm Dr. Copeland. If you'll let me, I just want to take a look at your knee." Adam said kindly. The man's eyes fluttered and Adam was amazed at how perfectly green they were._

_"I don't want you to." The man answered stubbornly, before he tore his eyes away and looked elsewhere._

_"Why not?" Adam asked, one eyebrow raised. "I don't want to hurt you. Besides, the bandage needs to be changed."_

_The man sucked in a deep breath and looked down at his hands. Adam could tell that it was hard for him to be this honest with anyone. "It hurts."_

_Adam raised one eyebrow, a little bit confused. "I don't understand, Mr. Brooks. Your leg hurts? Well, then, there's a nurse out there that would love to issue you some pain medication."_

_"No, you don't understand." He said firmly. "My lover, he… he… he died of an overdose. Prescription pain pills. They went down real smooth with booze, he used to say. I can't… I can't…"_

_Adam understood. "You don't have to take them if you don't want to, Mr. Brooks. But I do need to take a look at this."_

_"Isn't there any other way?" He asked. He almost sounded pitiful._

_"If you keep these dirty bandages on, it could make the infection worse."_

_The man bit down on his bottom lip and pulled at his lip ring childishly. "Fine."_

_Adam smiled. He didn't understand why Amy had had so much trouble with this young man. He seemed open to reason and he had trusted Adam with that little tidbit about his dead lover. After Adam swore to be extra careful, he walked over to the man's wounded leg and gently removed the tape. He hissed a little bit, but otherwise he didn't make a sound. Adam nodded. That was a step in the right direction._

_Then, he slowly started to unwind the gauze from around the man's knee. In order to do so, he had to bend it a little bit. That was when the man's eyes shot open and his hiss turned into a full-on moan, and when the final bit of gauze was stuck to the wound and he had to pull harder, it morphed into a scream. Adam disposed of the gauze and then turned around, a sponge-like pad in hand to press to the wound to stop the bleeding._

_The man's breath was labored and the thin sheet of sweat on his face had become a mask. Adam cooed at him reassuringly, promising him that the pain would go away soon. He breathed with him, showing him the best way to vent his pain so that he didn't hold his breath and pass out. When the flow of blood slowed, he took the gauze off and threw it away. And then, he took out a saline syringe and shot the wound full of the cleansing liquid._

_"There. Now, was that so bad?" Adam asked with a smile. The first rule of befriending the patient and earning their trust: always work with a smile._

_"It hurt like fucking hell. Of course it was that bad!" He screamed, but his breath was even now and he was much, much calmer._

_"Well, I have good news for you, Mr. Brooks." Adam said. "I won't ever have to do that again. I'm gonna put a gauze pad on it this time, so you won't have to bend your knee for me to take it off. It also won't stick as bad."_

_"Thank Jeebus." He breathed out, before he allowed his head to fall back and his eyes to close as Adam worked._

_Once he was finished, Adam re-tucked the leg under all of the blankets and turned the Wound-Vac back on. "There you are. And if you need anything else, don't hesitate to call. The nurses just love you, Mr. Brooks."_

_He smiled, even if Adam couldn't see it. Adam was halfway out the door, when, "Hey, doc?" He turned around, now face-to-face with his patient. "Call me Phil."_

_Adam smiled. "Phil it is, then."_

* * *

Adam came into work early the next day. Jay hadn't come home, or he had already left, either way Adam didn't want to be in that house all by himself. He sat in his office and busied himself with case files that he still had yet to look over. The photo of himself and his dead lover, Phil Brooks, was turned face-down on the desk. It was still there, despite the fact that Phil had been dead for four years now. He couldn't bring himself to put it away.

The dreams had started to come more frequently. Most of them ended the same way. That dull, flat-line that told him that Phil was dead. He could see it on the heart monitor, the bright green line in stark contrast to the black background. The soft chime of the alert signal, which was really incredibly loud, ringing in the back of his mind as he tried and failed to process the fact that _Phil was dead._ He would never come back.

When Adam's shift officially started, he was pleased to find out that the first patient on his rotation was none other than Chris Irvine, the war-veteran with a nasty temperament. He liked them feisty. It was only when they started to become complacent and resigned to the fact that these four, white-washed walls were all that they would ever see that he started to worry. That was how Phil had been. Cold. Unresponsive. Dead.

Adam walked into the room, this time without knocking. He wanted to see the animal in his natural habitat. Chris leaned back on the pillows of his bed, his eyes focused on the static-y image on the television screen. Adam looked. It was a documentary on World War I on the History Channel. Adam felt a small smile brew as he took out his clipboard and started to take some notes on Chris' vitals.

"Good morning, Mr. Irvine. How do you feel today?" Adam tried his best to sound chipper, but at the absolute least, at least he sounded civil. That was more than he could say for the look that Chris shot him.

"Haven't you doctors ever heard of knocking? Or does your God-complex make you better than that?" Chris snapped nastily. He turned off his television and rolled away from Adam, which disturbed a few of his stitches.

"Mr. Irvine, you shouldn't move around so much. You experienced extreme trauma to your bowels and those stitches are the only thing that's holding your skin together. I don't want you to bleed out on me."

"I would much rather bleed out than have to sit here and listen to you lecture on about my health and wellness."

Adam offered him a tight smile. "I'm your doctor. What else am I here for?"

"To make a living off of shoving medication down my throat that I don't really need, for one. I'm fine, don't you understand that? I don't need any of this shitty anti-psychotic crap!" Chris screamed.

"Mr. Irvine, I'm going to have to ask you to calm down." Adam said civilly.

"No! Who do you think you are? My boss?" Chris shot back.

"Mr. Irvine, this is bad for your blood pressure." Adam watched as it sky-rocketed.

"I don't fucking care!" Chris hollered.

Adam was done. His civility may have only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like it had stretched on for a lifetime. Reaching into the drawer in the bedside table, he pulled out a mild sedative, took off the cap, and injected the needle directly into his IV. Pressing down on the plunger with more force than was necessary, he injected the medication directly into Chris' system. Chris was still fuming, making a mess of the room and his shirt as his stitches popped.

Finally, once he had calmed down, Adam removed the top half of his hospital gown and, after washing his hands and donning his gloves, he went in and repaired the ruptured stitches. To be totally honest, he didn't care if Chris wanted to live or if he wanted to die. He cared about the fact that Chris was alive, right here and now, and he could be saved. And if it was within Adam's power to do that, then he damn-well would. Chris could be certain of that.

"Now, Mr. Irvine, you have a choice. Either you can take your medicine without complaint, or I can sit down with you and explain why you need each medication and what it does. You can only chose once." Adam said.

Chris looked at him with half-lidded eyes, and yet somehow, he still managed to get across that he was pissed as hell. Adam smirked. He had accomplished his goal. "Why the hell should I listen to you?"

"Mr. Irvine, if word got out about some of the things that you talk about in your sleep, well… I don't think that this would be the best hospital for you, now would it? There's a psych hospital down the road, after all…"

Chris cursed under his breath, but it all came out as a slur. "I'm not crazy."

"I know that. You have PTSD. But if you don't take your medication, you could seriously hurt someone in the midst of one of your hallucinations." Adam explained.

After an entire life of helping people, Chris' face fell at the idea of hurting someone. "Could you… would… I don't know how to ask this."

"Just try." Adam said, a calm smile on his face. His serenity had returned full-force.

"Would you explain all of the medication to me?" Chris asked softly.

Adam nodded, took out Chris' chart, and turned to the sheet of medications. "Of course." He found the first medication. "First off is Haldol, with his an anti-psychotic…"


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, etc.

* * *

"Hello there, sir. What can I do for you?" A small, thin P.A. asked. The nurse's desk was otherwise abandoned and Jay realized that it must be the five or ten minutes between shifts.

"Oh. My name is Jason Reso; I'm a friend of Dr. Copeland's. He left without his lunch this morning, so I came by to drop it off." He flashed her a broad smile and watched as a dark flush rose in her tanned cheeks.

"You must be the best friend that he talks on and on about." She smiled. "I've heard a lot of wonderful things, Mr. Reso. Your business has done a lot of wonderful humanitarian work and has donated millions to cancer research."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "You certainly do seem to know a lot about my business. But I like a well-read individual." He looked down at his watch. "Listen, I have to hit the road. My lunch break is almost over and Heath will kill me if I'm late."

The P.A. tilted her head to the side, confusion etched onto her cute, childish features. "Heath?"

"My secretary." He answered dismissively, but in a tone that said that Heath was _a lot_ more than 'just a secretary'.

"Oh. Well then, I'll make sure that this finds its way to Dr. Copeland's office. I'm sure that he will be extremely thankful." She smiled at him as she lifted the container up off of the counter.

However, by the time she had finished her statement, Jay had already vanished. She rolled her eyes. Men. She would never understand them. Jason Reso was an attractive man, but whether _he_ was attractive or _his money_ was attractive could be called into question, and she believed herself to be an attractive woman. Naturally, there should have been chemistry there. And there _had_ been; only it had been one-sided. The CEO had seemed more interested in his secretary than her.

With a frown, she took Adam's lunch and carried it down the hallway to his little office. He was on his lunch break as well, albeit a little earlier than usual. She knocked twice on the door and he called for her to come in. When she did, he immediately turned one of the pictures on his desk face-down. Not that that was really necessary, of course. She (as well as every other doctor and P.A. on staff) knew full-well who else was in that picture.

The story was incredibly well known. Adam had fallen in love with one of his patients, Phil Brooks. The man had lost his lover to an overdose a few months earlier and then had contracted MRSA in his knee. It had nearly killed him, but Adam had dutifully nursed him back to health. The infection had never left, but it had receded and his wound had closed. He had been dismissed from the hospital and they had lived together for a time. However, the infection had come back.

"Dr. Copeland, your roommate came by with your lunch. Do you want me to leave it on your desk?" Her soft voice filled the awkward silence of the office, bouncing off of the heavily adorned walls.

Adam looked up at her, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed. "Yes. That would be wonderful, AJ. Oh, and could you do me a favor? I want Dr. Dumas down here to examine one of my patients."

"Dr. Dumas has a full rotation today, Dr. Copeland. I'm not sure she'd be able to fit in a spur-of-the-moment patient." AJ said skeptical. She knew Dr. Amy Dumas well and she could be… temperamental when pulled from a full rotation.

"Tell her that I sent you. I'm sure that she'll be more the considerate of the situation." Adam said.

AJ sighed, resigned to her fate. "Which unfortunate patient am I sending her to see?"

"Chris Irvine, Room 218. He's a war veteran with PTSD and I don't think his medication is strong enough."

AJ nodded as she tucked the file underneath her arm. "Okay, then. I'll see what I can do. No promises, though. Dr. Dumas can be a real _bitch_ when she wants to be."

Adam smirked. AJ certainly didn't mince words. "Yes, I know. But trust me, if you approach her properly, she'll be intrigued by the case and have no reason to turn it down."

AJ shrugged. "Whatever you say. It's not _your_ funeral."

Adam watched her skip out of his office, the skull designs on her high-tops peeking out from underneath her uniform with every movement. AJ certainly was… unique. Yes, unique seemed to fit her quite well. Sometimes, she was so 'unique' that she scared him. She danced around without a care in the world, but when someone said or did something that she didn't like, she could be a murderous little pixie. Unique, but damn-well _crazy_.

Adam had a fleeting thought to call down Dr. Dumas and have her do a psych evaluation on _AJ_. Yes, that would be the same day that he died. AJ would finally snap and kill him and then she really _would_ be committed. Adam smirked as he leaned over and slowly started to unwrap the lunch that Jay had packed for him at the last minute. It was nice to have such a dedicated friend. Even if he was swamped with work, he still took the time to pack Adam lunch.

He took out a water bottle with an assortment of little flavor packets – ice tea, ice tea with peach, lemonade, pink lemonade, and cherry limeade. There was a ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, and a sliver of pumpkin pie that had been carefully preserved in one of their elderly Tupperware containers. Seriously, it was a wonder that they didn't fall apart at the seams. Adam couldn't even remember where they had come from, but he assumed Jay's grandmother.

And underneath all of that was a note: _Dear Addy, I probably won't be home tonight. I have another date with Heath. I think that today is the day that I'm finally gonna ask him to marry me. Wish me luck ;)_

"At least one of us is happy." Adam said a note of dejection in his voice as he started to unwrap his sandwich. "Best of luck, Jay-Jay. Best of luck…"

* * *

Chris was startled out of his silent reverie by a knock on the door. He called for whoever it was to come in, not really in the mood to receive a visitor. Another doctor walked in, but this time it was a woman. She had dark red hair and it was held behind her head in a loose, messy bun. Make-up was haphazardly strewn across her face and her mascara was smeared as if she had been crying recently. Her identification badge read: Dr. Amy Dumas, psychiatric.

Chris looked her over again, even more unsure than he was before. This was the _psych_ doctor? She looked like she needed a psych doctor herself! One patient's sob story away from a mental breakdown, Amy Dumas looked nothing of the 'best in her field' that Chris had often heard back on the front line. While he himself didn't have a personal story revolving around the doctor, many of his fallen comrades had written letters back to the front line telling about her great work.

Amy walked over and examined his chart for a few minutes, scribbling down his full list of medications (that in itself was a feat, because his list was almost two full pages in length). Once she was done, she set the chart back onto the hook at the foot of his bed and took a seat in the E-Z chair beside him. She stared at him for several minutes, unfaltering. That unnerved him. She did not blink and, if he didn't know any better, she didn't _breathe_.

When he realized that she wasn't about to break down, he tried to calm himself down and release all of the tension from his body. He knew that the tension would read wrong and he didn't want her to think that he had something to hide. Now that Dr. Copeland had explained the reason why he had to take each medication and what the medication did, he had started to take it. Hell, he had even started to eat! So he didn't understand why _she_ was here.

"Mr. Irvine." Chris nearly jumped out of his skin when she finally broke the silence, but he hurriedly composed himself. "My name is Dr. Amy Dumas and Dr. Copeland called me down here to examine you. Do you know why?"

Chris shook his head. "No, I don't. He told me that if I took my medication, he wouldn't _have_ to call you down. Unless he lied to me, of course." He said it so nonchalantly, as if it was normal for doctors to lie to their patients.

But Amy only smiled. "No, actually. You took all of your medication, which is excellent. That's not the reason he wanted me to come." Amy said. "Do you want to take another guess?"

Chris sighed and rolled his eyes. He wasn't really in the mood for this and, in actuality, would rather return to wallowing in his misery. "Not really. I'm kinda tired, so could we make this fast?"

Her smile faltered and all of a sudden she was all business. "Of course, Mr. Irvine. I'm here to reevaluate your medication."

"Reevaluate? As in…" Chris trailed off.

"As in, make sure that your anti-psychotic and anti-depressants are actually working." She said. "Now, how do you feel?"

For a minute, Chris contemplated lying to her. He could lie to her and just stay in his Hell, which was what he wanted. Life had been Hell ever since Jessica had left him, taking the kids with her. She just couldn't stand always having to worry about him being dead or if he had stepped out on her (Chris had been heartbroken when she had suggested that, because he would never even _dream_ of hurting her like that). The divorce had been finalized last month.

The PTSD just made this metaphorical Hell _real_. With the PTSD, at least it was something solid that he could hold onto. Sure, he hated every minute of it. Constantly living in terror was something that _nobody_ wanted or deserved to experience. But in Chris' messed-up mind, he actually believed that, because he had hurt Jessica, he deserved to experience this. _This_, whatever _this_ was, was his punishment. But, in the end, he told her the truth.

"I see." Amy nodded sympathetically. "Okay, Mr. Irvine. I'm going to increase your prescription for Haldol. That should help to repress the hallucinations. And to help you sleep, I'll prescribe some Ativan."

Chris' eyes moved down to his blanket and a dark blush spread over his cheeks. "Um… if you don't mind my asking, what does Ativan do?"

Amy nodded, like she had expected that question from the start. "When I read your chart, it said that you reported minor anxiety and moderate to severe panic attacks before you sleep and after you wake up. Ativan will take that away."

Chris sighed, thankful that he had gathered the nerve to ask the question. "Thank you, doctor. When can I expect to receive the medication?" Chris asked.

Amy tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes in thought. "Before bed, so maybe four hours?"

Chris forced a smile and nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Amy shoved the file back into Adam's arms. "I saw your patient. He's a fucking basket case, Adam. You better walk on eggshells around him if you don't want to find him in my neck of the woods."

Adam smiled a little as he rubbed his bruised chest. "Thanks for seeing him. And, actually, I think he's finally starting to open up to me. We're making some good progress."

Amy noticed the far-off look in Adam's eyes and frowned. "Don't get too attached, Adam. It never ends well."

Adam's smile fell. "You think I don't remember? How could I _ever_ forget?" He screamed in her face, losing sight of reality. The tears came unbidden and he excused himself from the other doctor's presence, before he ran.


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, etc.

* * *

Jay rushed into his office at fifteen to one, which left all of fifteen minutes for his romantic lunch with Heath before he had to head back to work. Heath sat at a long, white desk in the middle of a spacious room that was more window than wall. Exotic plants were located all over the room and dim lights overhead provided light for when they put in after-dark hours. Jay smiled. Yes, the two of them had a _lot_ of memories in this room…

Slowly, Jay walked over and set his hand on the white wood of the desk. Heath finished the sentence he was on, before he swiveled around in his chair and their eyes met. Jay could see a mixture of hurt and disbelief in Heath's sweet eyes. The southern boy was so innocent, Jay could rest assured that his love for him was not tainted by how much money Jay had. Heath loved Jay because he _was_ Jay. And now, Jay had hurt him.

The seconds ticked away on the clock. With each rotation of that little red hand, the two men came _that_ much closer to a forced separation. Eventually, Jay would _have_ to return to his work. If he didn't, it would result in an extremely pissed off roommate and even more work to do tomorrow, which would turn into a never ending cycle of the same horrific torment. So, instead, he would have to man-up. Admit he lost track of time. Say 'I'm sorry'.

"Heath, I -," he started, only to realize that he honestly didn't have any _new_ words to say. Like every other aspect of his life, it felt like a routine. Admit he lost track of time. Say 'I'm sorry'. Hope Heath didn't castrate him.

"Yes, I know, Jason." Heath's sweetly southern twang was all the more evident when he was upset. "You lost track of time. You didn't know that our anniversary was _that_ Sunday. It's always the same old routine with you."

Jay blinked and tried to conceal his shock. Really? Had it just become a routine for them? The same old song and dance, set to a different backdrop? "Look, Heath. I'm sorry, okay?" Confrontational. Bad idea.

Health slammed his fist down onto the desk, cherry red locks falling down in front of his face. "No, Jay. I don't think that 'sorry' is gonna cut it this time. It's too little too late, man."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jay spit out. His words came out harsher than he had intended them to be.

"It means that we're over, Jay. I'm done with this." Heath finished softly, before he turned back to his work.

That wonderfully _full_ feeling that he had entered the office with left him in a flash and he was left alone, so, so alone, with a look of utter disbelief on his handsome face. Heath couldn't just _leave_ him, could he? Not after all they had been through. Jay had helped Heath through so much, had mentored him through some of the rockiest moments of his life. And after all of that, what did Jay mean to Heath? He was little more than a toy that could be thrown away.

Jay watched as Heath stared at his screen unwaveringly. Finally, he shook his head. Shifting his briefcase from one hand to the other, he wandered into his office and let the door slide close behind him. He wasn't sure whether he was in shock or what, but the true weight of the situation had yet to hit him. It still felt like he could walk out there and kiss Heath and Heath would kiss him back, that adorable blush on his face from the unexpected PDA.

Jay sighed at the stack of paperwork he was confronted with. Knowing that he had narrowly avoided Adam's wrath the first time, he decided to call the blond this time. "Adam?"

The hustle and bustle of the hospital filled in the background. Adam sniffled pathetically and Jay felt his heart swell with concern for the older man. _"What do you need, Jay-Jay?"_ His voice trembled.

"What's the matter, Adam?" He really didn't have time to play counselor, but he would do anything for Adam.

_"P-Phil…"_ Adam spluttered.

"Adam, baby-boy, Phil's been dead for years now. Why would he…"

Adam cut him off. _"My new patient… he's just like Phil. He's badly injured and is refusing to take his medication. He even went on a hunger strike. And I… I don't… I'm not sure if I can treat him."_

Jay sighed again. He had never liked the effect that Phil had had on Adam. It was unhealthy. "Addy, if you think that you can't treat him, talk with another doctor and have him transferred off of your rotation."

Adam swallowed hard. _"I can't do that either. It's like I… like I need him, Jay. It's scary. I loved Phil so, so much and it's like he's my last link to him. I can't lose him like I lost Phil."_

Jay's pager beeped. He had a meeting in ten minutes. "As much as I would love to continue to discuss this, I have to be in a meeting in ten minutes. How about we finish this discussion over dinner? At Michael's?"

_"What about Heath? Didn't you have a dinner date with him?"_

This time, it was Jay's turn to swallow hard. "Change of plans. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

Adam chuckled dryly, but there was no real humor behind it. _"Okay. We'll have dinner at Michael's. I'll meet you there at eight. I get off my shift at six-thirty, so that should be enough time for me to shower and dress."_

"Okay, I'll see you then. Love you, baby-boy."

Adam smiled at the term of endearment. Somehow, Jay always knew how to make him feel better. _"Love you too, Jay-Jay."_

And then, the line went dead. With a frown, Jay set the phone down on his desk and collapsed into his rolling chair. He didn't want to think about how his life had just unraveled before his eyes. It seemed like, no matter how hard he tried to do the right thing, something was always there to screw him over. Looking out into the front office, he saw Heath sobbing in his own little corner. He wanted to comfort him, but he didn't know how to.

* * *

_"Do you love me, Phil?" Adam asked softly, while both of them were curled into bed, just barely on the brink of unconsciousness. Phil groaned. As it turned out, he was a little closer to sleep than Adam was._

_"What was that? I didn't catch the last part." Phil muttered tiredly. His eyes refused to open, but Adam could tell that he was, at least, somewhat awake. _

_Adam reached out and his hands found purchase on Phil's well-muscled shoulders. "I asked whether or not you loved me and I think that I woke you up. If I did, I'm sorry."_

_Phil shook his head. "No, you didn't wake me up. I was just dozing." He curled into Adam's body a little bit more. "And of course I love you. Do you think that I would still be here if I didn't?"_

_"You loved Jeff too." Adam pointed out blandly. His words were met with an uncomfortable silence._

_"Jeff is a different story." Phil bit out, about to turn his back on the matter entirely._

_Adam worried his bottom lip obscenely. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so insecure, but… I just… sometimes I worry that… that you don't actually love me."_

_"And there's absolutely no reason for you to think like that. I'm here now and I'm here to stay. Don't think that you can get rid of me so easily, okay? Jeff was the past, you're my future."_

_Adam looked at him uncertainly. "Promise?"_

_"Promise."_

_Phil's warm arms slithered around his back and drew him into his chest, where he reveled in the warmth and comfort that he received. Now, he wondered how he could have been so blind as to not see how much Phil truly loved him. In just a few short months, their worlds had come to revolve around each other. Jay said it wasn't healthy. Adam didn't really give a damn. As long as he had Phil, he was complete._


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, etc.

* * *

Once Adam was off his shift, he made his way back to the apartment that he shared with his best friend. He looked at the clock, which read 6:45 PM. He still had an hour and forty-five minutes until he had dinner with Jay. He slid out of the car and locked it, before he made his way to the front door. Hunter, the doorman, flashed him a smile as he let him inside. Adam returned it. He knew Hunter and his husband, Mark. They lived down the hall with their daughter.

He collected the mail and slid into the elevator, absently hitting the button for his floor as he thumbed through the mail. Most of it was bills. But one envelope in particular caught his eye. It was a letter addressed to him from Chicago, Illinois. A pang filled his chest as he remembered seeing those two words on Phil's chart all those years earlier. Upon closer examination, he realized that the letter was from Mrs. Brooks, Phil's mother.

_"You've never told me about your family, Phil. I mean… I've told you about my mother. But your mother, your father, your sister… I feel as if you've closed off that part of your life to me." Adam said._

_Phil looked up from the treadmill. He slowed his jog down to a careful trot, before he stopped entirely. "Well, then, what did you want to know about? If you really want to know that bad, I'll answer."_

_"You never seem to want to talk about them, let alone think about them. When you were in the hospital, you didn't even want me to call them to let them know how you were. They had to be worried."_

_Phil shook his head. "Nah, I don't think that they were all that worried." He reached into the refrigerator and took out a water bottle. "Let's just say my Dad wasn't too thrilled when I came out of the closet."_

_"Your Dad is homophobic?" Adam asked as his eyes widened._

_"Not exactly. He just didn't like Jeff. Especially when he found out about Jeff's… issues."_

_"So, you knew about Jeff's addiction from the start?" Adam asked. His face bore a look of surprise._

_Phil nodded. "I hate to say it, but yes. I knew about it. I can't say that it thrilled me, but he was in rehab. He was trying. But it was difficult for him and he kept relapsing."_

_Adam hesitated for a moment. "Until he died?" He asked._

_Phil swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah. Until he died."_

"Mister?" Adam shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the painful memory. He looked down into the sweet face of Lilly Calloway, Hunter and Mark's seven-year-old daughter. "This is your floor."

He ruffled her soft blonde curls affectionately. "Thanks, sweetie. You have a nice night, okay? Be good for your Daddies." He didn't miss the blissful smile that Lilly shot him.

"I will!" She assured, before the doors to the elevator slid closed.

Adam made his way down the hall to his apartment, unlocked the door, and entered inside. Immediately, he threw out the letter from Mrs. Brooks. As much as he had come to love the woman and think of her as his own family, he couldn't bear to be around them now. He knew what they thought of him. Silently, they blamed him for Phil's death. Even if the words would never leave their mouths, he could see it clearly in their eyes.

There wasn't any time to waste. It was now 7:00 PM, and he knew for a fact that Jay would never let him live it down if he was late. He made his way to his bedroom and peeled off his scrubs. He couldn't believe how filthy he felt. The memories of Phil didn't help, but they couldn't be helped. Until he found someone to take that place in his heart (and, to be honest, he didn't think that anyone could) he would always be haunted by memories of Phil.

He made his way into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Hot water poured out of the faucet, steam pouring out of the stall and fogging the mirror. He stared at his reflection for a minute, feeling his heart freeze in his chest as Phil's face materialized in the steam. He choked back a sob, and in a flash, the body disappeared. Without another thought, he climbed into the shower and allowed the hot water to wash over him.

_Phil's hands scaled over his wet, soapy chest. Adam smiled, but hid it behind the wall of his hair. "Mind if I join you, baby?" Phil asked, even as he slid the door to the shower closed._

_"Actually, I love it when you join me in the shower. And there's more than enough room for the both of us." Adam's smile melted into a sultry smirk as he traced his fingers over the tattoos on Phil's body._

_Phil leaned down, kissing his boyfriend tenderly. "You know that there is nowhere else that I would rather be." His hands slid over Adam's naked body. "I want you, baby…" He trailed off. _

_Adam smiled, feeling Phil's hands snake around behind him and a warm, wet finger prod at his entrance. "You already have me, Phil. I don't plan on going anywhere."_

_Adam didn't miss the smile that crossed Phil's face when he said that. Slowly, the finger slid in to the knuckle. Adam sucked in a surprised breath, rutting into the smaller man wantonly. "Good."_

_He slid another finger into his boyfriend's tight channel, loosening him up so that he could take Phil's cock. Adam rutted against his boyfriend blindly, his eyes closed and his mouth open as pleasure wracked his body. Phil placed open-mouthed kisses on his boyfriend's neck, attempting to place them where the other doctors wouldn't notice. It wouldn't do to have them tease his boy about hickeys when they didn't even know he had a boyfriend._

_He slid a third finger past the tight ring of muscle, but by now, Adam was desperate. He needed to feel his boyfriend inside of him and was willing to bear the pain if it meant that that could be _now_. Phil slid the fingers out and Adam moaned deliciously. That moan turned into a shout of barely contained pleasure as Phil lined his cock with the taller man's hot channel and slid home with one, smooth thrust._

Adam staggered out of the shower, unable to bear it one more second. The heat in his stomach was almost unbearable, but he plastered on a fake smile as he dried himself off and dressed in jeans and a loose t-shirt. It barely even registered that the shirt had once belonged to Phil. It was probably better that way, considering his current state of mind. And then, with that same fake smile on his face, he started back downstairs to the car.

* * *

"It seems like forever since we've been out to dinner, Adam." Jay said with a smile. He handed their menus over to the waitress and took a sip of his water. "How are you?"

The fake smile never left Adam's face. "I'm great. I think that I've finally regained the trust of the Chief. She was skeptical at first when I didn't tell her about the depression, but she's allowed me back on the surgical rotation."

"You do understand that you should have told her about Phil from the start, right?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, I know that." Adam looked down at the table. "It's still hard to talk about, however."

Jay reached across the table, taking hold of his best friend's hand. "He's in a better place now, Adam. But let's not talk about that. Let's talk about this Chris fellow. You seem to be rather enamored with him."

A dark blush spread over Adam's cheeks. He felt bad, talking about his attraction to Chris so close to talking about his attraction to Phil, but Jay had asked… "Chris is… unique."

"That's what you were telling me. I know that you can't disclose any details about him because of doctor-patient confidentiality, but… what is it that attracts you to him?"

Adam looked down at the table bashfully. "I guess it's because he reminds me so much of Phil. I hate to say it like that, because it belittles how I feel for Phil -,"

"I'm sure that, wherever he is, he'll always know how much you loved him."

Adam's smile faltered a little bit. "I still love him."

"Of course, I'm sorry. It was a bad choice of words."

Adam patted his best friend on the shoulder. When he looked into Jay's eyes, he could see the same death and confusion in them that he felt within his own soul. "How are you and Heath?"

Jay didn't answer. Instead, their food arrived. The waitress set their food on the table and they immediately started to eat, their earlier conversation all but forgotten. Adam allowed his mind to flicker to Phil once more, but thankfully, he was not assaulted by any memories. He didn't think that he could handle anymore flashbacks tonight. It was already bad enough that he had re-lived two memories tonight. It had been getting better, but now…

Adam suddenly found that he wasn't hungry, which was an anomaly in and of itself. He started to pick at his food, that dead feeling swimming in his stomach again. It had first surfaced when he rolled over in bed that fateful morning, only to find an unresponsive Phil at his side. There had been no drugs in his system. No alcohol, inhalants… no _anything_. Upon further inspection, Adam had found that the MRSA had resurfaced and, in a matter of hours, he had died.

Tears burned in his eyes, but he swallowed them down. His friend had never liked Phil and he certainly wasn't here to listen to all of Adam's problems. So, he swallowed down all of his selfish wants and kept that façade up. If Jay couldn't see through his mask, then he could continue to lie to himself and to Jay. He could pretend that he was okay, that none of this affected him. And maybe, one day, he would actually start to believe it.

"Earlier, you asked me how Heath and I were." Adam nodded, thankful to have the attention off of him for the time being. "He broke up with me earlier."

"Oh, that sucks. I'm sorry to hear that, Jay-Jay." Adam offered him a sympathetic smile. "And right when you were planning to propose, too. Is there anything that I can do to calm the waters a little bit?"

Jay shrugged. "I don't know. I love him, I do… but, at the same time, I wonder if this wasn't for the best. I mean, I was constantly hurting him. I can't remember our anniversary for shit, let alone his birthday…"

"That doesn't mean that you don't love him."

Jay chuckled brokenly. "I have an awfully odd way of showing him how much I love him, then."

Adam finished off his drink. He had stuffed himself silly and he felt like he was going to puke, but he had to keep up this façade for Jay's sake. "Guess we're both gonna ring in the New Year together."

Jay smiled. "It'll be just like old times. You'll drink yourself blind, hook up with some random bimbo, and not remember a blessed thing in the morning."

Adam felt his stomach turn at the idea. He hadn't been with anyone since Phil and it felt wrong to betray him in such a way. "Yeah. Just like old times."

A new round of water arrived. Jay raised his glass and touched the rim to Adam's. "To a great New Year. Let's hope it's a million times better than this year."

Adam's smile, momentarily, turned genuine. "To a great New Year."


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone, other than Nell.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, etc.

* * *

_"You're drunk." Adam declared sullenly. He looked into Phil's dilated eyes, his heart suddenly in his throat. "Phil, you know that it isn't safe to mix alcohol with your medication. If you would have come to me, we could have -,"_

_Phil blinked slowly and it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere. "I'm not drunk, Adam. I don't drink." And then, he reached from the water bottle on the bedside table and used it to wet his parched throat. "I just don't feel too hot, that's all."_

_"Do you need me to take you back to the hospital? It could be your infection resurfacing." Adam was instantly at his side; worry clear in his hazel eyes. He couldn't lose Phil, not with all that they had been through. _

_"I don't need to go back to the hospital." He tossed the thermometer in Adam's general direction. The blond caught it and looked at the little numbers on the screen. 98.7. "I don't have a temperature."_

_"Fine. But I'm gonna keep an eye on you, okay? I don't want you to have a relapse in the middle of the night." Adam slithered into bed beside his beloved and hooked an arm around his middle. "I'll be with you all night. Tell me if you need me, okay?"_

_"I trust you." Phil muttered sleepily. But he shouldn't have. He should have never trusted Adam._

_"Good." Carefully, he brushed the hair out of Phil's face. "I love you, baby."_

_With his last breath, he uttered the last words that Adam would ever hear him say. "I love you too."_

Adam awoke in bed alone. He rolled over, half expecting to feel Phil's body there. But it wasn't, and he was well aware then it would never be again. With a sigh, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. A strong light streamed in from the window and nearly blinded him. It felt as if someone had taken an ax to his forehead and after several moments, he remembered that he had gotten drunk with Jay last night. Just out of curiosity, he leaned over the side of the bed and found a butt-naked Jay sprawled out on the floor, a bottle of whiskey with him.

He shook his head. When Jay said 'let's drink to the New Year', he certainly hadn't been kidding. With a sigh, he fell back against the mattress and reached for his cell phone. It was 12:46 PM. A wave of relief washed over him. It was only 12:46 PM. He didn't have to head in to work until 4:00. But then, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. The date. It was January 3rd, 2013. Hadn't yesterday been New Years? There was only one plausible explanation. Somewhere down the line, they'd lost almost forty-eight hours.

"Shit!" Adam was out of bed in a flash, almost tripping over Jay's naked form. "Jay! Jay! Get your lazy ass _up_! It's fucking _Thursday_, you idiot! We've missed two days of work!" Adam kicked him in the side, but it had little effect on the drunken man.

"Mmm…" Jay rolled over onto his stomach. "Five more minutes, Mommy." He slurred. His breath stunk of alcohol and his morning erection stood up against the ceiling.

"Jay," Adam purred, adding a hint of a southern accent to make his voice sound like Heath's. "It's time to wakey wakey, baby. I have a special anniversary surprise for you…"

"Mmm… I don't wanna wake up." Jay slurred. "But why don't you just come here and we can have some fun anyhow."

Jay was surprisingly strong in his sleep-like state. He yanked Adam down and forced him to lie down on his chest. "Even with you being asleep and all? I'd much rather you were awake and not get us kicked out of our apartment."

"Sex first, work later." Jay answered drunkenly.

"I don't think Adam would be very happy with you." Adam answered, still in Heath's voice. "He may just pour the rest of the whiskey on your head." He retorted with a smirk.

"I don't think he would. Besides, he isn't here. It's just you and me." Jay slurred.

Adam smirked. Sliding out of Jay's arms, he took the bottle of whiskey and emptied it on Jay's face, just like he had promised. The shorter blond awoke, sputtering and shivering, curses falling from his mouth. Adam watched with a smile as Jay scrubbed at his burning eyes, before he stole a glance at the clock. It was already one o' clock. His shift ended in three hours. He needed to get Jay up off his lazy ass and into the car. If Heath found out that he didn't come to work for two days because he was too drunk, well…

"You're a shit head, you know that?" Jay hissed, but there was no real venom in his voice. "That was a nasty trick."

"I know." Adam answered with a smile. "Now go get dressed before you have one pissed-off red-head on your ass."

Neither seemed to mind that the other was naked. They had been friends for most of their lives, and thus, they had seen each other naked more times than they could count. Jay rose off of the floor and walked into his own bedroom, where he got ready for the day. Adam dressed in his scrubs and his medical coat, making sure that he had all of the accoutrements that went with it. Worried that his lack of attendance at work would cause a bad report to be sent back to Vince McMahon (after all, it wouldn't be the first time), he called in.

_"Hello, you've reached Mystery Main Hospital. My name is AJ Lee. How can I be of service to you on this fine day?"_ Adam didn't miss the sarcasm in her voice. She hated her job – especially when sleeping with the boss' son didn't pull her up the corporate ladder like she'd hoped.

"Hey, AJ. It's Adam. Listen, I'm sorry that I haven't been in to work lately. I know that I've missed two days, but I've been… really sick. Too sick to even reach the phone. But I'll be in today in about a half hour, okay?" Adam asked.

_"Oh, yeah. Sure. Your shift is only over in like, two hours or so."_ AJ rolled her eyes. _"I'll make sure that Vince knows that you're actually gonna show your sorry ass today. Maybe he won't be too pissed off."_

"Nobody, uh, referred my name to him, did they?" Adam asked weakly.

_"No. Why would they? You're yesterday's news. The real story is Dr. Dumas' psychotic break. It's the talk of the town."_ AJ said distractedly.

Adam's heart stilled in his chest. While he had never been a real fan of Dr. Amy Dumas, she was the lover of his best friend and he didn't wish her ill. "What happened to her?"

_"Her kid… what's her name? Nell, I think. Anyhow, her kid was hit by a drunk driver. She's in the hospital and nobody'll let her see her."_

"Oh, God." Was all that Adam could say.

"_Well, actually, I have to head back to work now. I'll see you in a half hour."_ She hung up without another word.

Adam couldn't believe it. Nell couldn't have been more than six or seven years old, and she had been _hit by a car_. He couldn't imagine how awful it must be for her right now. Nell was such a darling child. After Amy and Kane had divorced, Kane had gained custody of the child, so they were already separated… but to have her right under her nose, in the hospital that she was born in, and not be able to see her? It was a wonder that she didn't raise absolute hell trying to see her baby.

Jay was ready a few minutes later. Adam fixed his tie for him, before they left the apartment together. Each had their own car, and it would be easier (and faster, mind you) to drive separately then to bother with a car pool. So Adam took off for work, the image of Nell in one of the lonely, white hospital beds stuck in his brain. She was too young and innocent to have to endure the horrors of the hospital. And he made sure to block out the time to go in and visit her after his shift was over.

* * *

Adam made his rounds in record time, making sure to keep his 'favorite' patient for last. It wasn't that he didn't like Chris. Quite the opposite, actually. He knew that he was rather fond of the man, because ever since he had been taken into his care, he had been experiencing flashbacks of his life with Phil. Some of the memories were nice. Others, like the dream that he had experienced that morning, were almost too painful to relive. He swallowed hard. It was still too damn difficult to think that Phil was dead.

But there came a time when he could avoid the confrontation no longer. Walking down the hall, he slowly advanced on Chris' room. He took the chart off of the wall and looked it over, noting that his psychotic medication had been upped over the holiday. That didn't surprise him. With Chris' PTSD, the holidays could arouse some painful memories that would be difficult for him to relive. He wrote the date in a new box and walked inside, instantly taking note of the drop in temperature.

Chris lay in bed, his blank eyes focused on the muted television on the wall across from him. His hospital gown was wrinkled and so was the blanket that was haphazardly strewn over his body. His normally tanned skin was a few shades paler and he looked as if he were about to pass out. But instead of looking worried, he slowly sipped his ice water and studiously ignored the little cup of pain medication on the rolling tray. So, they were back to this again. Not talking and refusing to take medication. That was just wonderful.

"Hello, Mr. Jericho." Adam said with a warm smile. "How was your holiday?"

"Oh, so you finally decided to come back, huh? And here I thought they were going to assign me to a new doctor." Chris said.

Adam's smile faltered a little bit, but he tried not to let it show. "Now, Mr. Jericho. I thought that we were coming to an understanding, you and I. I'm her to help you, not to hurt you."

"Well, if you were here to _help_ me, then you would have told the damn nurse to stop giving me this stupid fucking medication." And then, a little bit softer, "It makes the hallucinations worse."

"It's having a negative effect with your psychotic medication, huh?" Adam asked kindly. "Now that I'm back, we can fix that."

And then, out of the blue, he suddenly asked, "Why do you care about me so much?"

Adam blinked, slightly taken aback by the question. "Why do I care about you so much? I care because you're my patient, Mr. Jericho. It's my job to take care of you, and after the wonderful job you've done defending our country, it's time that someone took care of you."

"That's not what I mean and you know it." Chris said.

Adam sighed. "Then what is it that you mean?"

"You're shift ended at three o' clock. Its four now. You're using your personal time to come see me. Any other doctor would have just pushed me off onto another doctor or waited until tomorrow. And any other doctor wouldn't sit down and explain all of my medications."

"That's what a _good_ doctor would do." Adam forced a smile, realizing that he was trapped.

"Cut the crap, Dr. Copeland. Tell me the truth." He bit out through gritted teeth.

"That is the truth." Adam lied.

Chris' hand snatched out and took hold of Adam's arm, holding him in place. "Tell me. _Now_."

Adam stared into his eyes, bit his bottom lip, and relented.


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, Mentioned Past Self-Harm, etc.

* * *

"Fine. You want the truth? Here it is. I suck as a doctor, I'll admit it. It wasn't always like that, but that's the way life's chosen to have me. I suck as a doctor, I suck as a friend – hell, I suck at life. This? This is my shot at normalcy."

Chris raised an eyebrow, obviously not convinced by Adam's fanatical rant. "You don't _suck_ as a doctor. Now, that Dr. Dumas chick, _she_ sucked as a doctor. She looked worse than her patients! But you… you're different."

"That's certainly one way to describe it." Adam looked pained as he stared down at the chart. "You were an athlete before you joined the corps?" Chris nodded. A wrestler, as it turned out. "So was he, but he always favored soccer."

This was the part that Chris had been waiting for. It was the meat of the issue. "Who was he?" Adam's eyes slowly widened, almost as if he didn't want to tell. "You've come this far already. You might as well spill."

Adam kicked at the rickety wheel on Chris' hospital bed. "I don't like to talk about him."

"How come?" Chris continued, if only to keep the pretty blond talking for a few more minutes.

"He's dead. Dead as a doornail. So, _so_ dead…" he trailed off, repeating that one word under his breath. Dead.

Chris felt an icy shiver rocket down his spine. No wonder the poor boy was so traumatized. The boy spoke about him in an almost reverent tone, as if he could still love him from beyond the grave. But that tone had died away the instant that he muttered the word 'dead'. Blame and self-hatred filled his eyes and Chris feared for his doctor right then. Like Dr. Dumas, he looked worse than his patients. But then, he slowly started to calm down.

Adam reached into his shirt pocket and handed Chris the pocket-sized photo that he kept on him always. Once Chris first laid eyes on the mesmerizing man, he found it almost impossible to look away. The raven-haired beauty simply captivated him, as he had undoubtedly captivated Adam all those years before. Adam wove a short but detailed tale of the man's life, but even as Chris listened, he couldn't force his eyes away from the emerald of Phil's.

There was something about the man's eyes.. Chris couldn't quite put it into words. There was some depth of dedication in there, some depth of loyalty and honor, the likes of which he hadn't seen before. But even that kind of description didn't do him justice. There was no doubt in his mind that this boy was 'unique'. And Adam had loved him. And, of course, that love had ultimately destroyed his career.

"So, wait a minute here." Chris shook his head until he was dizzy. "I remind you of _him_?"

"Yeah." Adam nodded sincerely, without hesitating for an instant.

Chris blinked a few times, an unsure and uncomfortable look on his face. "I honestly don't see that. From what you've told me, he's perfect. I'm just as screwed up as you are."

Adam blinked slowly. "Phil was far from 'perfect'. In fact, he really hated that word."

"Look at him!" Chris insisted. He held the photo up next to his own face, hating the way Adam's face wilted at the sight of his dead boyfriend. "How can there be any similarities between us?"

Adam swallowed hard. "Well, for one, this was his room. He also had a condition that shortened his life. He had a bad history with past loves. He was unbelievably gorgeous. He -," but before he could say more, Chris cut him off.

"Did you just call me gorgeous?" Chris asked.

Adam's eyes widened, his face coloring as he realized that he had, indeed, said that. _"What_?" He choked out.

"Did you just call me gorgeous?" Chris repeated carefully. He didn't want to scare Adam off.

But it didn't work. Quickly, Adam rose off his chair. "I've said too much."

Adam tried to leave, but that didn't work either. Chris wasn't about to just let him off the hook that easily. He reached out, snatching hold of the doctor's thin wrist and dragging him backward, tossing him into the chair once more like he was some kind of rag doll. Adam only watched him with wide eyes, a sick look on his face. He didn't want to be here talking with Chris, that much was obvious. But, at the same time, he needed this.

Chris took hold of his sleeve and rolled it back, acting on a hunch alone. Frankly, he wasn't too surprised by what he found. Criss-crossed across Adam's beautifully pale skin were old scars, probably a few years old now. When Chris tenderly ran his finger over the wounds, Adam flinched away. No wonder the poor boy didn't like to speak about Phil. It must've been like someone re-opening all of his wounds and laughing as he bled.

"Did you do this… because of him?" Chris whispered softly. It was none of his business, but he had to know.

"No, not because of him." Adam mumbled beneath his breath. "He wouldn't have wanted that. I did this for him. I… I wanted so badly to be with him. Because it was… it was my fault he died."

"It wasn't your fault, Adam. You can't blame yourself for fate." Chris said.

"I can blame myself for not seeing the signs. I'm a doctor. I should have known." Adam countered.

"And you're afraid that the same thing is gonna happen to me." Chris stated. Adam nodded, his face concealed behind his hair. "Nothing is gonna happen to me. I trust you, Dr. Copeland."

_"I trust you."_ _Phil muttered sleepily._

All of a sudden, Adam broke down into a vicious fit of tears. He shouldn't be remembering this. He couldn't remember this. He hated himself for letting Phil die. The signs had been so fucking _obvious_. Phil had been lying there in a pool of his own sweat, his breath whistling, his body heavy. The doctor in him should have seen it. The _man_ in him should have seen it. But he didn't. And Phil was dead.

The sudden explosion of tears from the pretty blond was a little scary, truth be told. He hadn't expected such a violent reaction from the younger man. Not knowing what else to do, he took hold of the younger man's hand and gently stroked the soft skin there. Adam's tears were momentarily stifled as he was shocked by the sudden kindness. But then they fell with renewed force, knowing now that he had someone to comfort him.

"I can't love you." He whispered sullenly, trying to conceal his tears. "I can't."

Chris was a little taken aback by the sudden declaration of love, but quickly realized it was more of a dismissal of lust then an actual confession. "But you can't deny your love for me either."

"I don't want to be fired." Adam slurred, rubbing at his swollen, red-rimmed eyes.

"You won't be fired, Adam." Chris reassured him, even if he didn't know that for sure.

"If he finds out that I had another illicit relationship with a patient, he won't just fire me – he'll kill me. I'm scared, because I don't want to like you. I don't want to love you. But I _do_ have feelings for you, and I can't deny that."

Chris' heart froze in his chest. "I-I… Oh God, Adam, I can't…"

Adam yanked his hand away. That sick feeling returned to him – something akin to the feeling of knowing that he would be forever responsible for Phil's death and never be able to make it better. Only this, this was worse. This would be like Phil rejecting him the first time, saving him from the ultimate demise that would come about a short while later. Quickly, he wrote down the rest of Chris' information and hooked the chart on the end of the bed.

"I'm sorry." Adam whispered. He couldn't be in that room any longer. He couldn't believe that he had let this man see his scars, couldn't believe that he had let this man judge him. It ate at him a little bit.

"Adam." Chris called out after him, but Adam wasn't listening.

Adam ran. He ran because, frankly, he couldn't deal with being in that hell for a minute longer. That room held too many memories, both good and bad. And it really made him sick to think that he could have ever envisioned a life with Chris, when Chris had a family of his own, a family that he loved more than he could have ever love Adam. His love for Phil had both built him up and destroyed him.

As soon as he was out in the hallway, he found the nearest PA and told them to transfer Chris off of his rotation.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, etc.

* * *

Maybe he needed to take some time off. He could take some time to kick back, relax, unwind, and _forget_. Yes, that was the magic word. _Forget_. If only his memory could be so kind. It sounded so selfish, so unkind – but if he could just white out those years of his life, wipe the slate clean, he knew that he would be happier. Every day, he wouldn't have to blame himself for not trying hard enough, for failing Phil when he had _trusted_ him.

He couldn't stay. He knew that he should, knew that he still had files to review and reports to finish, but he just couldn't. After only an hour at work, he found himself running toward the automatic front doors, not even bothering to return to his office and retrieve his jacket. The frigid wind enveloped him in a chilly embrace, and he imagined that that would be what the hands of Death felt like. Was Phil cold when he died?

He started to walk, having no destination in mind. His car still waited for him in the employee section of the parking lot and he would return for it eventually, hopefully. Or maybe, he would just never come back at all. It would be so much easier if he could walk away right now. Just keep on walking, ignoring the confused, frightened stares that he earned from those that passed him on the streets. They didn't care. No-one did.

Nobody would miss him. Even Jay had heard his story so many times, had seen him suffer through it… he would eventually tire of it as well. On several occasions, he had tried to convince Adam to attend counseling sessions. Amy had even offered them to him at half-price. But Adam didn't believe that he could just lie down and have his heart and soul bleed on the floor for someone that didn't _know_ Phil and didn't _care_ about him.

Adam didn't even feel inclined to turn to Phil's family. They had grieved the loss of their son and were now trying to build their lives back up, move on (if it was possible to move on from the death of a child). Adam didn't want to re-open old wounds. Instead of talking about it with others, he was perfectly content to let his own bleed. His heart was broken, aching, and he knew that working at the hospital wasn't helping at all.

There had to be thousands of patients like Phil. There had to be dozens of patients who had been treated in that room. There had to be hundreds of sob stories yet untold. But Chris and Phil – they were so much alike, it was almost scary. Nobody could understand it, nobody could see it, because everybody was too busy moving on to pay attention to the little details. But Adam was stuck in the moment, and Adam _remembered._

The doctor fumbled in his pocket for the picture of Phil that he had shown to Chris. He didn't even know what had clicked in him and made him do that – he never showed that particular picture to anyone, not even Jay. Maybe he was slipping. He held the picture in one trembling hand, tears blurring his vision as they began their slow and steady trek down his rosy cheeks. Nobody would ever understand how much he loved Phil.

In the end, he did make it past the apartment that he shared with Jay. He ended up on the outskirts of town, sitting in one of the little kiddie parks, watching as all of the children raced back and forth. They were utterly oblivious to his presence. Maybe it was the fact that he was a doctor, and they felt that they could trust him. Or maybe he was every bit as invisible as he felt at that moment. He just didn't know.

His phone rang. He didn't really care to answer it. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now. If he could just wallow in his misery, then he would be perfectly content. However, the caller didn't seem to agree with his decision. His phone rang again, and then a third time. It was starting to draw the attention of the children, who shot him awkward looks. Finally, he pulled it out of the pocket of his scrubs and answered it.

"Hello?" He asked tiredly. He tried to convey that he wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone.

_"Dr. Copeland."_ Adam flinched, instantly recognizing the sound of his boss' voice. _"I am very interested to know why you suddenly saw fit to run off in the middle of your work day."_

Adam's heart pounded madly in his chest, worry evident in his eyes. "I'm sorry, sir. I was just having some… issues, and I needed to deal with them immediately."

_"Issues? Dr. Copeland, I was sincerely hoping you could come up with a better excuse than that."_ His boss said.

Adam flinched. Trying to keep a steady voice, he said, "But that's the truth, sir."

_"I believe that it's time for your employee evaluation, Adam. I expect you in my office at 9:00 AM tomorrow."_

Adam swallowed hard, knowing full-well what Vince intended to do. It wasn't exactly a secret that Vince McMahon enjoyed firing his employees. "Yes, sir."

But he didn't even need to confirm it. By the time the words had left his mouth, Vince had ended the call abruptly. Vince was like that. And if Adam didn't owe the man his life, and his job (thus far, at least), he would confess that that was one trait that _really_ annoyed him. But Vince had treated him like family, tried to allow him time to heal (even if he didn't understand the relationship)… and Adam couldn't say he wasn't thankful.

He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and rose to his feet, tilting his head back to the sky. He started to walk back to the apartment that he shared with Jay, not allowing the reality of the situation to sink in. If he focused on the fact that he would, undoubtedly, be fired, then he knew that he would break down. He couldn't afford another break down, and so he allowed himself a small smile. He wouldn't let the darkness win.

* * *

Jay arrived home late, taking off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack. "Addy, I'm home!"

All he received in return was a small sniffle for his efforts.

"Adam?" Jay's voice was now laced with concern as he frantically looked about for his best friend. He found him on the couch, his knees drawn into his chest, sobbing. "Adam, what's wrong?"

Adam didn't respond until Jay scooped him up into his arms, drawing the taller blond's head into his chest. "I… I got a call from Vince… and he… he… he wants to… fire me…" Adam rasped.

"Shh… Shh, Shh, Shh…" Jay continually mumbled this to his friend, rocking him back and forth and stroking his soft, fluffy hair lovingly. If Adam didn't calm down, then he would hyperventilate.

Adam clutched at Jay's shirt. "It hurts, Jay-Jay…" he trailed.

"I know, baby. I know." Jay consoled him softly.

"I want it to stop hurting. Please… make it stop hurting." Adam whined, his voice no louder than a mumble.

Jay knew how much Adam's job meant to him. In a way, it was like his last connection to Phil. Adam was the kind of person that needed to help people, that should always be around those that made him _better_. Adam just loved to be around people. In a way, that made Adam heal from his loss. Knowing that he could surround himself with those that he _could_ help… it truly was revitalizing for a man who had lost everything.

To think that Adam could lose the job that meant so much to him… Jay knew that that would destroy him. He wondered how long Adam had been holding this in, how long he had been forcing a straight-face. Adam hadn't called him like he usually did when he returned home from work, so it must've been several hours. Jay didn't like to think that Adam had been crying the entire time, but there seemed to be no other alternative.

"I would if I could, baby. But I don't know how…" Jay trailed.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, etc.

* * *

_"Please_," Adam whispered as tears bristled in his eyes.

Jay stared at his best friend for a moment, his arms still wound tightly around the taller man's lanky frame. What should he do? What _could_ he do? It wasn't like he could march down to the hospital and demand that Vince McMahon _not_ fire the poor, blond baby. Vince had cut Adam a lot of slack over the years - it helped to be the hospital's top doctor - but after Phil's death, Jay had been forced to watch as that string grew taught and now, finally snapped. It wasn't fair, but life had never really _been_ fair. He would just have to learn to accept that.

Drawing back, he made to tell this to Adam, when his eyes caught hold of the taller blond's delectable lower lip. It was trembling ferociously, like a naked man out in the middle of a snowstorm, and it caught the occasional tear on it's smooth, pink surface. Adam sniffled pathetically and Jay had half a mind to tell him to calm himself down, he could make himself sick, but then realized that Adam would already know that and probably didn't care. So he stared at that lower lip a bit longer, gradually leaning in until their lips tentatively brushed against one another. Adam's eyes widened.

The tall blond yanked himself away, the tears suddenly stifled. "What the hell was that?" He seethed.

"That was a _kiss_, Adam." Jay said, smirking. Adam shot him a look which read 'I know what it _was_, dumbass, I meant 'why did you do it'. "I did it because I wanted to. You're so, so beautiful, Adam - and what you need, right now, is for someone to show that to you."

Adam's heart hammered painfully in his chest. He hadn't even _thought_ about sex ever since Phil's death. "This is wrong, you know. Last time I checked, you were so broken over breaking-up with Heath you wanted to drink yourself into a coma."

Jay only nodded, accepting that as the truth. "We're both hurting, Adam. Why not do our best to make the other feel better?"

"I was never one for the whole 'friends with benefits' hype." Adam said, still sounding a little unsure.

"This is a one-time deal, Addy." Jay assured, "And it won't hurt our friendship at all."

Adam didn't look convinced, but Jay was out to prove it to him. Taking his best friend by the hair, he instigated their second kiss. Their teeth clashed violently and for a second, the shorter blond was certain that he tasted blood. But this didn't deter him in the least. Gingerly, he pressed his tongue to the other blond's lips, asking permission for entrance. There was a second of hesitation, before Adam opened his mouth and tenderly allowed his tongue to glide over Jay's. For the first and only time, they tasted the unique and strangely perfect taste of the other.

Not willing to break the kiss, Jay's fingers absently started to work over the buttons of Adam's shirt. Within seconds, it was unbuttoned and falling off his shoulders. With no undershirt to slow the process, Jay finally broke the kiss and kissed a trail down Adam's chin, neck, chest... he paid special attention to each nipple, teasing it to hardness with the tip of his tongue. By the time Jay reached Adam's naval, his tongue dipping in and swirling lazily about, and his hands started to unbutton Adam's work pants, the bigger blond was a writhing mess beneath him.

The pants were a bit trickier, but he managed to get them off without too much of a hassle. When Adam was finally able to open his eyes again, he realized that, somewhere along the line, Jay had managed to undress himself as well. Jay only smirked, the dangerous glint in his eyes saying that he would never reveal such tricks of the trade. Then, gently, he took one of Adam's legs and tossed it over the back of the sofa, moving the other closer to the coffee table - and stared at Adam's exposed body for several seconds, absolutely in awe.

Adam contemplated making a cheeky comment about taking a picture, but decided against it at the last minute. Instead, he pushed his hips up toward Jay invitingly. "How long do you plan on making me wait?"

"Man, for someone who was so dead-set against this a few minutes ago, you certainly are one horny bastard." Jay shook his head affectionately, before reaching under the sofa cushion to grab the lube. He kept one there just in case Heath was in the mood on movie night.

"Well, you could say it's been awhile." Adam responded off-handedly, before choking out a "fuck!" when Jay inserted the first finger.

Jay hooked his finger down, the pad rubbing against Adam's prostate. "You mean...?"

Adam looked up, eyes half-lidded, and sadly replied, "Yeah."

"Man, I really need to get you out of the house more often."

Carefully, he slid another finger inside, scissoring them. Now that he knew how long it had been since Adam had last had sex with anyone, he knew that he would have to be incredibly careful. His intentions were to make the blond feel better, to _comfort_ him, not to hurt him. No - even if this was only a one-night thing, Adam was still his best friend and he held that above everything else, even his own pleasure. He'd rather die than hurt the pretty blond, and that was the one-hundred percent truth.

When Adam seemed to have adjusted to the two fingers, he added one more, just in case. Adam was positively writhing beneath him, his eyes closed and his head thrown back in absolute ecstasy. He was moving with the fingers, pivoting his hips _just so_ to have the sides of the fingers brush against his prostate. And, if the way he was groaning was any indication, he was near his peak. At that moment, Jay chose to remove his fingers. Adam's eyes opened and focused on Jay with a cruel, unforgiving glare.

Jay took his time slicking up his cock, totally ignoring Adam's agony. Adam growled, "Hurry up, would you? I'm _dying_ here."

Jay laughed, but positioned himself between Adam's legs nonetheless. "I highly doubt that you're dying."

Adam rolled his eyes. "You're such a fucking tease. Fuck me already!"

Jay smirked. "My pleasure."

With one smooth stroke, he bottomed out inside of Adam. The blond positively _screamed_. Jay wouldn't be surprised if they got complaints from the neighbors tomorrow. Slowly, he drew back out, positioned his hips to try and find Adam's prostate, and then hammered back in. Another scream, this one much, _much_ louder, confirmed that he had found it. He started a fast and brutal pace, always careful not to hurt his friend, but wanting to bring them both off quickly at the same time. Soon enough, Adam's channel clamped down on him and the taller blond came with a strangled moan.

Jay followed soon after, filling Adam to the brim with his seed. It took him a minute, but once he was finally able to pull out, he asked, "Feeling better now?"

Adam swallowed hard and looked up at Jay with dazed, moderately confused eyes. "Yeah. Actually, I am."

* * *

"Ah, Adam, I'm so happy to see that you could make it. Come in, sit down, make yourself at home." Vince seemed the perfect host as he motioned to the many available seats that Adam could chose from.

Adam chose one of the seats directly across from Vince's desk, crossed his legs neatly, and brushed invisible dirt from his suit. "Well, sir, when you called, you didn't leave much room for me to turn down your offer." He laughed tensely. "I've been here since seven-thirty."

Vince smiled. "You've always been a punctual lad. Even after the incident..." A pained pause followed, then, "How are you feeling, Adam?"

Adam, a bit taken aback by this question, looked at his boss with clear-cut confusion. "Excuse me, sir? I'm not sure that I follow."

"How are you feeling? Mentally, emotionally, physically..." Vince trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. "How has life been treating you? Did your dog die? I just want to know how you are, Adam. I'm not sure what you don't understand about my question."

Adam, still a tad startled, offered, "I'm feeling very well, sir. Life has been treating me just fine."

"Good. Good." Vince said, before shuffling around some papers on his desk. "I'm sure that you know why I've called you in here today."

Adam's heart sank. Of course he knew. How could he not? "Yes, sir. But I have to say, I'm not quite sure I understand -,"

"What's there not to understand, Dr. Copeland? You walked out of the hospital while still on duty and made no attempt to come back. You had a patient transferred off of your rotation for no reason - otherwise you would have filled out an incident report - and expected me not to notice. And I know why."

Adam flinched. "You do?"

Vince nodded, but did not say a word. He continued to shuffle papers around on his desk, seemingly looking for something. Adam's pink slip, perhaps? Adam could feel his stomach doing somersaults inside of him, threatening to make him lose everything that he had tried to eat for breakfast. Absently, he reached for the complementary bottle of water that Vince had offered him at the beginning of their little meeting. However, he was shaking so badly that by the time he managed to bring it to his lips to drink some of it, most of it had ended up on his shirt.

Maybe drinking wasn't the best idea after all. It was much easier to put the lid back on the bottle, he found, and he placed it back on the table beside him. He crossed his arms neatly over the bottom of his shirt, doing his best to hide where the water had spilled on him. Not that Vince noticed. He was too busy shifting through a stack of business cards. Wait... business cards? And then another thought occurred to Adam. Maybe he wasn't going to be fired. Maybe he was going to be _transferred_. And that would be ten-times worse. Vince would no longer have his back, he'd be out in the open, and vulnerable -

Finally, Vince handed over one of the business cards. The name on the card was Stephanie McMahon, followed by familiar letters that Adam had seen before. And before Adam could say a word, Vince said, "I want you to see a psychiatrist."


	10. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anyone.  
**Rated:** M  
**Warning(s):** Slash, Bloodshed, War, etc.

* * *

"You want me to see a... psychiatrist." Adam repeated, not realizing that the hand that was holding Stephanie McMahon's business card was trembling. "Well, I can honestly say that that certainly wasn't what I was expecting."

Vince seemed to ignore that last bit, preferring to zero-in on what he believed to be Adam's 'problem'. "You see, Adam, most doctors have something of a 'God-complex'. They like to save lives, but when they can't... well, failure is something that they were never taught to accept."

Adam blinked, feeling a sudden rush of anger swell within him. "But it's not like that at all! This is a totally different situation and has nothing -,"

"Really?" Vince raised an eyebrow critically. "I know that you sometimes think me naïve, Adam, but I was _not_ born yesterday."

Realizing that he would be fighting a losing battle, and possibly lose his job in the long run, Adam sighed, "Of course not, sir."

There was a lengthy pause as Vince waited for Adam to continue. When he didn't, he himself filled the silence, "I understand that you do not consider yourself to be a self-righteous or stuck-up man, Adam. And I am in no way implying that you are."

Adam wanted to scream 'of course that's what you're doing!', and, as an added bonus, throw in 'because you're the asshole that can't see those qualities in himself!', but refrained from doing so. Instead, he said, "Of course not, sir. I know you wouldn't do that."

"Good." Vince leaned back in his chair, smiled. "Because I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression of today's meeting."

"You want me to see a psychiatrist to get rid of my 'God-complex'." He put the last two words into air-quotes.

Vince laughed, surprising and nearly scaring Adam to death. After a few minutes, once he finally calmed himself down, he said, "No, that's not it _at all. _I want you to see a psychiatrist so that she can talk you through and make you more comfortable with losing. You can't win every time."

Adam looked down at his hands, realized that they had stopped shaking, and exhaled weakly. "Of course, sir."

Vince then broke into a long-winded explanation about how he knew what was best for Adam - having taken the pretty blond under his wing so many years before, encouraging him to attend med school so that he could reach his full potential, and offering a shoulder to cry on after Phil had died so suddenly (not that he really understood the relationship, but he understood Adam, and that was enough). He emphasized the fact that he had _always_ been there for Adam, and this was just his way of looking out for him as any mentor should.

And Adam understood, he really did. To Vince, Adam was not unlike another son. When he was younger, he'd even been invited to several family get-togethers at the McMahon estate. The entire family was loaded, but that didn't come as much of a surprise, considering all of them worked in some form of medical field. Vince ran the hospital with an iron fist. His wife, Linda, was the hospital's leading oncologist. Their daughter, Stephanie, was a psychiatrist. And their son, Shane, was a pediatrician. And Adam was like their honorary son... who didn't make nearly as much money.

Adam had even lived with them at one point. He'd been down on his luck and hadn't yet met Jay, the youngest CEO in the country. Vince had welcomed him into his home with open arms, let him stay in the lavish guest bedroom, and helped him to get back on his feet. Vince had done _so much_ for the pretty blond over the years. Tears brewed in his eyes as he remembered every instance where Vince had been there when no-one else would dare. He considered himself rather lucky - without Vince, he would undoubtedly be dead by now.

Vince decided that now would be the best time to bring up Adam's earlier comment. "Say... why did _you _think that I was calling you in here?"

Adam sniffled and rubbed at his eyes pathetically, not allowing the tears to fall. He wouldn't show weakness in front of Vince. "No... No reason."

"Adam." Vince growled. That was another thing about his lovely boss. He was like the mayor from _The Nightmare Before Christmas - _two different faces, two distinctly different personalities, ready to turn on a dime. "What have I told you about how I feel about liars?"

"You think that they're the scum of the earth, and that there is no place for them in your prestigious hospital." Adam repeated Vince's words verbatim. A sigh, then, "I thought that you were here to hand me my pink slip."

Vince's eyes widened considerably. "You thought that I wanted to fire you?" Laughter suddenly filled the air and Adam felt sick - the unique combination of relief and embarrassment didn't do well for his stomach. "Whatever gave you that ludicrous idea?"

"Well, you sounded so angry on the phone..." Adam trailed off wearily.

Vince's face suddenly became gravely serious. "I'm not going to fire you. But there is one more thing I want to tell you before you're dismissed."

Adam nodded. "Yes, sir. What is it?"

"Until you complete a minimum of ten visits with my daughter at her practice, I'm going to have to insist that you do not return to work. I cannot afford you making a mistake that could cost someone their life. She'll confirm your visits to me, and once you reach ten - and take your medicine - you can come back."

Once again, Adam felt sick. Vince only wanted him on his team of doctors if he was a drugged-up zombie. And that hurt - more than he was readily willing to admit. "Yes, sir. I'll schedule the first appointment as soon as I get home."

"Good." Vince inclined his head toward the door. "You're dismissed, Dr. Copeland."

Adam had never thought he would be so relieved to hear those four words. He got out of his seat as fast as he could without seeming as if he really wanted to leave (when, in reality, he never would have dreamed of staying a moment longer), and silently made his way to the door. He pushed it open, thinking that it was heavier than he remembered, and slipped outside without Vince noticing. It closed with a resounding _thud_. Once outside and sure that Vince would pay him no mind, he squeezed his eyes closed and let one tear fall - but it was a tear of relief, not of anguish.

He was called back to the world of the living by the hustle and bustle of the office scene that awaited just outside of Vince's office. In reality, Vince was the only one who really _had _an office. What awaited outside was simply a complex labyrinth of cubicles. People navigated this labyrinth at break-neck speed, carrying files to be copied, toner for the copier, coffee for the boss-man, filling out paperwork, etc. Adam had to admit, he didn't envy _any_ of these men and women their jobs. After that little meeting, he _knew_ that he couldn't handle seeing Vince on a day-to-day basis. He made his way over to one of the cubicles and peered over the wall.

"Hey." He smiled at his good friend, Summer Rae, who worked as Vince's personal secretary. "Long time no see. I was wondering if you could do me a favor?"

She finished stamping Vince's name onto a stack of paperwork, before turning to Adam with a smile. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

Adam handed her the card. "I need to make an appointment here for intake ASAP. I'm free on most days, but I'd prefer the meeting to be early in the morning. Can you call in the appointment for me, then call to tell me when to show up?"

She nodded, taking the card and jamming into the keyboard so it would stand up straight. "I'll see what I can do."

Adam smiled. "Thanks."


End file.
